I was Called Middie
by Yuko Hakubi
Summary: She was once called Middie Une. But now, as she muses over her lost Nanashi, will fate bring her to meet him again? And the forgotten disclaimer: I own nothing. Poor high school student. Understand?


I was Called Middie

By Hakubi

'_Goodbye, Nanashi.'_ Crooked tears painted lines on Middie's cheeks, and two shots destroyed the two transmitters she had carried.

That same girl, Middie Une, is sitting with her hands folded neatly in her lap, and she is hiding the carefully preserved partial crucifix in her palms. It was rare, that one could see the stars in a colonial city, or on the colonies at all, for that matter. There were too many artificial lights. But tonight, she would enjoy every moment of it. A soldier, looking for a place to go home to. That was what Middie had once been, but not anymore.

'_Are you still out there, Nanashi?'_

Perhaps he is. She hopes…no. She is certain that he is out there, in the place that he had been looking for. She pushes back her bothersome bangs; she really should pull them back into her ponytail, or cut them short. Soldiers shouldn't let things like that get in their way, even if they weren't called soldiers any more. Her neck aches, from holding her head straight for so long.

'_Would you still recognize me, Nanashi?'_

Middie would recognize him in a second if she saw him. Nanashi. It wouldn't matter if he'd changed. The door of the shop is pushed open, causing the overhead bell to sing it's pleasant twinkling tune. The light dusting of snow sticks quite insistently to the shoes of the newcomers, who are the only ones in the entire place that don't shiver from the cold. One has blue eyes, framed kindly by a halo of platinum blonde hair. His ease in a staring crowd tells of a wealthy family, and his pink-lipped smile seems almost diplomatic.

His companion seems out of place. Quiet, and bookish, with his honeyed brown hair overshadowing one of his green eyes. Brilliant and piercing is the gaze, just like that of Middie's Nanashi. A soldier, for sure. Middie brings up her arms, so that her elbows can rest on the speckled surface of the table. Her folded hands become a resting place for her chin.

'_I knew that you were still alive, Nanashi.'_

The blonde man tugs gently at his companion's elbow. He uses only two fingers, and is unsurprisingly gentle.

"Over here, Trowa."

Trowa. Hm. Middie tests the name in her mind, and mentally spells it out. T-R-O-W-A.

'_It doesn't fit you, Nanashi.'_

'Trowa' casts a quick glance around the room, but Middie angles her eyes downward before he looks her way. The habits of a soldier die hard, she knows. His companion tugs again at his elbow. The lingering contact seems too affectionate for mere friends. They take a step forward towards an empty table, but are intercepted by a young couple bundled quite snugly in each other's arms. The blonde man pouts.

"Let's go somewhere else, Trowa. There aren't any tables left."

Middie stands, and scoops her coat up in the crook of her right arm. Her gray skirt falls down to her ankles, smoothing itself over Middie's curves. Her maroon sweater is large on her frame, and the cuffs of her sleeves fall past her hands.

"You can have my table, gentlemen."

Both men blink, as though Middie was speaking in a language foreign to them.

"Miss, we couldn't just…"

Middie holds up her left hand, so that the crucifix is visible in her palm.

"Please, it's no trouble. I have to go home, to my father and brothers."

'Trowa' does nothing but tug his friend to the now vacant table.

'_Maybe you're not Nanashi after all.'_

Middie moves to step towards the door. Her steps are sure and steady, until her fingers brush against the smooth doorknob. The crucifix scratches her skin with the jagged end, and she stops. There is no blood, but an apology is pushing to gain freedom from the depths of her throat. A crisp turn brings her to face the pair again, and her feet take her back. With her right hand, she unwinds the chain from her fingers, and sets it in 'Trowa's' upturned palm.

"May God truly protect you this time, Nanashi." She turns.

"My name isn't Nanashi. It's Trowa Barton."

Green eyes spark with old anger.

"Tell me yours."

"I'm just a soldier that doesn't have a name in your eyes any more."

She pauses, and feels 'Trowa' grip her wrist.

"But once, I was called Middie Une."


End file.
